d
have been able to prevent Knight and Caird from seeing Victoria, or even
from having the slightest suspicion that she was, or had been, there. It
was the worst of luck that he should be outside the gates, for now he
could not go back while the Englishmen were there. Knight would
certainly recognize him, and guess everything that he did not know.

Maieddine thought very quickly. He dared not ride on, lest the men in
the car should have a field-glass. The only thing was to let Ben Sliman
go alone, so that, if eyes up there on the hill were watching, it might
seem that the Caid was parting from some friend who lived in the
village. He would have to trust Elaid's discretion and tact, as he knew
already he might trust his loyalty. Only--the situation was desperate.
Tact, and an instinct for the right word, the frank look, were worth
even more than loyalty at this moment. And one never quite knew how far
to trust another man's judgment. Besides, the mischief might have been
done before Ben Sliman could arrive on the scene; and at the thought of
what might happen, Maieddine's heart seemed to turn in his breast. He
had never known a sensation so painful to body and mind, and it was
hideous to feel helpless, to know that he could do only harm, and not
good, by riding up the hill. Nevertheless, he said to himself, if he
should see Victoria come out to speak with these men, he would go. He
would perhaps kill them, and the chauffeur too. Anything rather than
give up the girl now; for the sharp stab of the thought that he might
lose her, that Stephen Knight might have her, made him ten times more in
love than he had been before. He wished that Allah might strike the men
in the yellow car dead; although, ardent Mussulman as he was, he had no
hope that such a glorious miracle would happen.

"It is those men from Algiers of whom I told thee," he said to the Caid.
"I must stop below. They must not recognize me, or the dark one who was
on the ship, will guess. Possibly he suspects already that I stand for
something in this affair."

"Who can have sent them to my house?" Ben Sliman wondered. The two drew
in their horses and put on the manner of men about to bid each other
good-bye.

"I hope, I am almost sure, that they know nothing of _her_, or of me.
Probably, when inquiring about Ben Halim, in order to hear of her
sister, and so find out where she has gone, they learned only that Ben
Halim once lived here. If thy servants are disc